


The Sometimes, Occasional Benefits Of Being A Greedy Piece Of Shit

by LandOfMistAndSecrets



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bulges, Established Relationship, Insecure Nerds, M/M, Meteorstuck, Porn with Feelings, Quadrant Confusion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-10 23:00:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7011736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LandOfMistAndSecrets/pseuds/LandOfMistAndSecrets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just, the greediest. And the shittiest. </p><p>Oh man oh man if you think anything I've written before now was self indulgent nonsense just you wait, this is it, this is the most ridiculous self indulgent one yet. I've wanted to do something with the whole Dave's gay panic vs Karkat's quadrant confusion stuff for awhile and also something with both of these idiots being precious bottom boys so I just kind of said WHATEVER DO IT LIVE and by the way I started writing this at 11pm and now it's like 9am and I had PLANS today someone please kill me. </p><p>Enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sometimes, Occasional Benefits Of Being A Greedy Piece Of Shit

There are a lot of things Karkat likes about dating Dave. Too many to list, he thinks, glancing over to study Dave's sleeping face. Dave isn't _supposed_ to be sleeping, right now -- there's a movie playing on the husktop, which is balanced on Karkat's legs and acting as the sole light source in the block, for the moment -- but they've seen this one a hundred times like all the others and Karkat can't dredge up the energy to be annoyed. Besides -- there's too many things to list, sure, but one of them is definitely the way Dave likes to snuggle up against him like this, head pillowed on his shoulder, one arm thrown over his chest, their bodies pressed together all the way down. 

Karkat settles back into the pile of featherbags he's set up to keep himself at least slightly propped up for movie-watching purposes, tightening the arm he has around Dave. It's less comfortable for him, doing this on Dave's concupiscent platform, but it saves him from having to wake Dave up and half-drag him off the couch when he's finally ready to sleep, himself. Or try, anyway. He still doesn't get as much sleep as he should, mostly because he finds the dream bubbles so fucking stressful to deal with. 

Dave sighs quietly in his sleep, turning his face into Karkat's shoulder, and Karkat slips his hand under the back of Dave's shirt and rubs soothing little circles into his back. Dave mumbles something unintelligible. The movie plays on, familiar, practically memorized. Karkat's lips quirk into a coy little grin. 

"Are you asleep?" he says, a little too loud, feigning irritation. Dave makes a noncommittal noise, muffled into the fabric of Karkat's sweater. "You'd better not be sleeping through the best part," Karkat admonishes him, nudging his forehead with his chin. Dave's eyes flutter open; his eyebrows crease. God, he's attractive. It shouldn't be possible for a member of a completely different species to be so visually appealing. Karkat forces the grin off his face, with effort, replaces it with a stern expression. 

"What the fuck is even the best part," Dave mumbles. "You think all the parts are the best parts." 

"That isn't even remotely true," Karkat says. "I have actual favorite parts and I'm absolutely offended that you don't know what they are." 

Dave glances down at the screen, eyes narrowed. He lifts his arm and shields his eyes against the glare. It takes him a second, and then he lets out a startled little laugh. 

"Well, I know this isn't it," he says, settling back down against him. His eyes stay open, though, and he's wearing a sleepy little smirk. Dave knows this movie just as well as Karkat does, by now, and what's about to happen on screen is definitely a semi-explicit love scene -- which, true, aren't always Karkat's favorite scenes, especially in human movies, but Dave always claims they're _his_ favorite parts. Mostly to be annoying, Karkat is pretty sure. 

"Maybe not from my perspective," Karkat grants him. "These scenes are all the same in human movies, anyway." 

"Oh yeah?" Dave yawns, blinks into husktop light. "Sorry softcore human porn isn't creative enough to satisfy your weird alien expectations. But forget the sex scenes, these entire _movies_ are all kinda the same, in case you didn't notice." 

"They're not," Karkat replies, automatically. They've had this argument a thousand times, too. "Human movies are a little more formulaic, sure, but that's mostly because they insist on sticking to the male/female dynamic, and minimizing all the ancillary relationships that would really work better if they were threaded in as full palerom subplots--" 

"Alright, Director Vantas, more gay cuddling, your request is duly noted." 

Karkat lets out a little huff. For a second, he considers letting the comment stand. But of course, he can't. "Pale romance is about more than just _cuddling_ , Dave. It's about fostering a deep emotional connection that _doesn't_ necessarily have a physical component --" 

"Oh my god," Dave groans, and he actually lifts his arm and presses his hand against Karkat's mouth mid-lecture, muffling his words. Karkat seriously considers biting him. "If I have to be awake right now, the least you can do is shut up and let me watch these idiots bang, thanks." 

Karkat sighs against Dave's fingers, rolling his eyes. Dave lets his hand drop back down, and Karkat watches the scene unfold in silence. Human mating is fucking weird. Their movies generally aren't even that explicit, and it's beyond frustrating how they tend to show so much more of the women than the men. Not that he needs a scene to be explicit to enjoy it, exactly, but after a certain point he'd had to admit that part of what kept him watching human movies so voraciously was a desperate desire for some kind of hint or direction regarding what to eventually do about... _with_ Dave. And not a single one of them had ever _really_ prepared him for what to expect. 

Dave laughs, softly, startling Karkat out of his semi-bitter thoughts. 

"What?" 

"You look like you're trying to burn holes in your husktop with your eyes, dude." Dave grins up at him. "I have some pretty good evidence that suggests you at least find _some_ humans attractive, so I know it isn't that..." 

"It's not that," Karkat agrees.

"Not gay enough for you, then?" Dave teases, as though Karkat could or would ever give half a shit about having the unnecessary human label that indicates having romantic interest in one's own gender applied to him. 

"It's not that, either, though now that you mention it, I've never actually seen a single human movie with a _gay_ love scene," Karkat muses. "Do any even fucking exist?" 

Dave thinks for a minute. "I have no idea," he says, finally, brow creased. "Probably not. Outside of, you know, indie shit. Film festival crap. Uh, there was the one with the cowboys, I guess. I don't know how -- and I mean, it wasn't a comedy, I'm pretty sure." He chews his lip. "Not many studios out there willing to corrupt the children, I guess," he says with a shrug. "Scandalize all the church ladies and suburban soccer moms--" 

"What the fuck is a cowboy?"

Dave laughs. "Oh, shit. You're dating a Texan, dude. That's fucked up." 

Karkat glares at him. The movie plays on, forgotten. He doesn't bother pausing; they both know how it ends. Karkat has gathered from previous conversations that a Texan is a human who lived in a place called Texas, though Dave also calls the place he used to live "Houston" and "America" and "Earth" and "Satan's Fiery Asshole, USA," among many, many other things, and the human tradition of dividing places into dozens of separately named subdivisions just makes his think pan ache if he tries too hard to sort it out. 

"Anyway, it doesn't matter," Dave says. He looks away. Karkat frowns. Dave can still be a little sensitive about this whole issue, even after all they've done together, and he's suddenly and irrationally afraid they've crossed some sort of line and Dave suddenly doesn't want him here, anymore. Which is stupid, because Dave is still pressed against him just as tightly as before, but maybe that's just something he thinks he has to do rather than something he wants to be doing, or -- 

Okay, no. 

Stupid. 

"Sorry," Karkat says. Dave blinks up at him. 

"For what?" 

"Bringing it up, I guess." 

"What, the gay thing?"

"Yes, Dave, _the gay thing,_ " Karkat emphasizes the phrase, because he knows Dave is using that fake casual, irreverent tone to downplay his feelings, and that always drives him absolutely up the vertical structure plane. 

Dave smirks, which is both a good thing because it means he isn't _that_ upset, and a bad thing because it means he's probably up to no good. 

"Yeah, you should be sorry," he says. "You don't see me rolling up to you and asking things like, hey, Karkat, aren't there any troll romcoms where a couple of the leads just decide wow, hey, fuck this romance foursquare vacillation shit, we're just going to hang out right here in the middle, just the two of us." 

Karkat feels his face heat up. Vocal descriptions of what he and Dave have been doing still fluster him, and he _hates_ it, and even more he hates that Dave knows it. 

"I bet you guys don't even have monogamous fetish porn," Dave goes on, blithely. "We at least had tons of that. Gay shit, I mean. I should know, I was sort of living with the ironic curator of a suspiciously phallic puppet porn empire." 

"No, we don't," Karkat agrees, quietly. 

"I didn't think so. Can't fuck around too much with the sacred foursquare, not even in the nastiest parts of the troll internet, I bet. Who wants to hash out all their shittiest feelings _and_ kiss each other's stupid faces at the _same time?_ Shit's straight fucked up, yo." 

"Right," Karkat says, miserably. "You're so _right_ , Dave! I'm far too much of an emotionally scrambled freak to fit into even the darkest, seediest corners of Alternian romantic fantasy. Yet another symptom of my hideous mutation, probably. Leave it to me to only be capable of deriving actual fulfillment from the one arrangement actually guaranteed to get me good and culled! Looking back, I honestly can't figure out why I ever thought I'd live to see my tenth sweep!" 

He's shouting by the end of it, and Dave's eyes have gone very wide. There's a dim part of him frantically waving its arms and trying to tell him to stop, shut the fuck up, Dave is just teasing, he doesn't mean anything by it and you're fully overreacting like usual, but _also_ like usual he completely fucking ignores it and now they're just laying there in this thick, awful, awkward silence. Suddenly the incessant chatter of the movie playing its final act is insufferable, so Karkat sits up and stops it, chest painfully tight. He is truly pathetic. None of his stupid issues matter anymore, either, so why does thinking about it still make him feel so thoroughly shitty? 

Dave sits up with him and scoots away, putting a few inches of infinite distance between them. Karkat's bloodpusher clenches painfully. That's not at all what he wanted to accomplish, but he has no idea how to say so in the aftermath of that ridiculous outburst. 

"I'm sorry," Dave says, and he sounds so fucking _serious_ and _sincere_ that it -- actually -- Karkat blinks furiously. He's not going to fucking cry, right now. What the fuck is wrong with him, all of a sudden? He had been feeling _fine,_ honestly pretty good, and -- what the fuck? 

"It's fine. It's _fine._ I didn't need to react like that. I know you were just teasing." 

"Right, and you were just curious, so -- fuck, dude." Dave exhales loudly, dragging his hands over his face. "I know it's not the same." 

"It's not that different, either. Look, I overreacted, like usual." Karkat takes a deep breath. "I'm fine. We're fine. No one is going to fucking murder us for what we're doing, Alternia is fucking gone." 

Dave says nothing; he just sits there, chewing his lip. A dull, nervous weight settles in the pit of Karkat's gastric sack. What is he thinking? It's never anything good, when Dave looks like that. 

"Do you, like," Dave starts, brow furrowing. He sort of folds his arms around himself. "Do you really think, what we're doing, it's... does it really bother you that bad?" 

Karkat stares at him. "What are you talking about?" 

"Like, being together. Is that how you really -- is that how you feel?" 

Karkat is honestly not sure what he's asking, exactly, but that vulnerable look on his face speaks volumes. He hedges, carefully. "You _know_ how I feel about you," he says. "Dave. I'm fucking crazy about you, figuratively and probably also a little bit literally, too." 

Dave relaxes a little, some of his tension visibly evaporating. His eyes soften. Good. 

"So, you're not... when we're together, you're not thinking about all this like it's a shitty broken version of what you really want." 

" _No!_ " 

Dave studies him, and Karkat fights the urge to squirm under his gaze. 

"I could ask the same thing from you," he shoots back, finally. Dave's brows pull back together, but Karkat goes on, voice hot. "Maybe it's not the same, but it's _similar._ When we're together, are you wishing I was female? Is this a weird, messed up version of what _you_ really want, Dave?" 

Karkat is expecting Dave to react to the challenge in his tone, to snap something back at him, for this to segue into a full on petty argument that can run its course and burn itself out like all their petty arguments do. Maybe once they have it out with one another they can go back to cuddling on the concupiscent platform or something else in similar, flagrant, dizzying disregard of all quadrant-related rules. Sure. That's what they do. 

But Dave just _looks_ at him, and he gets this weird _haunted_ look on his face that makes Karkat want to pull him close and fuck arguing, if it's going to make him look like that. 

"All I really _want_ is to know that I'm..." he trails off, lips thinning, and makes this vague, frustrated gesture with his hands. "To know that I'm _enough._ " 

Fuck _that._ Karkat does reach for him, then, jerking his legs so the husktop slides off harmlessly to the side, getting to his knees and tightening his hands around Dave's wrists. Dave looks down at his hands and then back up again, a question in his expression, but -- thank god -- he doesn't try to pull away. Karkat yanks him forward, sliding his arms around him, squeezing tight. Dave squeezes back, a little less enthusiastically, but at this point Karkat will gladly take what he can get. 

"Of course you're enough, you fucking idiot," Karkat says into his ear. "You're more than _enough._ You're... fucking, _everything,_ do you understand? You're everything. For me. I want you in every quadrant like a pathetic greedy fuck, and rightfully that should make you want to run screaming. But instead, in a stunning twist, you were the one who suggested it in the first place, and -- if you had any idea how that felt..." 

"It didn't feel like I was suggesting anything at the time," Dave says, his breath hot in Karkat's ear. "It felt like I was giving you a shitty ultimatum, actually. Like, all right, I'll date you, but only if you agree to do it my way, because I personally can't handle the thought of you seeing someone else, so..." 

"I can't either," Karkat shrugs against him. "I never could. I need you all to myself, like the greedy piece of shit I am." 

Dave laughs, and Karkat feels the weight that had been settling in him lift a little at the sound. Laughing is good. Even if it's at his expense, it's better than talking past each other, accidentally aggravating all their most sensitive insecurities. 

"I'm kinda glad you're a greedy piece of shit, then," Dave murmurs, and suddenly his hands are slipping up under the back of Karkat's sweater, and Karkat goes hot all over for a completely different reason. "I really need a greedy piece of shit. Just... the greediest." 

"And the shittiest," Karkat agrees, squirming closer. "That's me." 

"To answer your question," Dave continues, his fingertips tracing up to run promising little circles under Karkat's scapular plates, "I definitely don't wish you were a girl." 

"Really." 

"Mm," Dave shakes his head, flattening his hands, dragging his palms around Karkat's torso pillar and sliding them slowly down his sides, caressing all his various bumps and ridges with his thumbs. Karkat leans heavily against him. His heart is suddenly racing. God, he loves this feeling. He almost loves the anticipation more than any actual explicit flushed activity. Almost. "The things I'm thinking about maybe wanting to do... yeah." He laughs again, a little more nervously. His hands are warm on Karkat's hips. "Definitely need a dude." 

"An alien dude, I hope," Karkat says, straightening, leaning back. It's hard to tell in the dim light, but Dave's face definitely looks a little flushed. He's smiling, though, and -- fuck. _It's so pathetic how easy I am_ , Karkat thinks. A few vaguely suggestive touches and a smile, that _fucking_ smile, and suddenly all he can think about is how badly he wants to show Dave in no uncertain terms just how _greedy_ he can be. 

"Oh, yeah," Dave says, eyes flickering downward suggestively. "Pretty sure alien dudes are the only dudes for me, now. You've just utterly fucking ruined me for that." 

"Then I guess I should be glad that Paradox Space's overall male troll supply is rapidly dwindling, shouldn't I? Your options are pretty fucking limited." 

"I don't know, Karkat, there are a whole lot of ghosts out there I could potentially try." 

Karkat blinks, mouth parting slightly. "Jesus Christ," he says. "I didn't even --" 

"God, _no,_ Karkat, that was a _joke_ , obviously, I'm not going to go around getting fresh with the fucking undead!" 

"Oh, thank God," Karkat exhales, and Dave lets out a short, exasperated little laugh, and then he just leans in and kisses him, thoroughly. Karkat kisses back, lips parted, inviting more and getting it in short order. Dave knows how to fucking kiss him, by now, knows exactly how to drive him crazy, tongue darting and teasing and oh, god, his hands are moving slowly back up his sides, pushing his sweater up as they go. 

"I don't fucking want anyone but you," Dave murmurs against his lips, and Karkat nods, breath catching, leaning back and lifting his arms to let Dave pull his sweater off over his head. He tosses it onto the floor and leans in again, pressing a few lingering kisses down the side of Karkat's neck, along the line of his clavicle bone and onto one newly exposed shoulder. Karkat feathers his fingers through Dave's hair, breaths coming fast and shallow, now. He wants, needs to be closer, to feel Dave against him, so he shuffles forward on his knees and puts a hand on one of Dave's knees, tugging suggestively. Dave apparently gets the hint, because he slides his hands down to clutch Karkat's ass, and pretty much pulls him directly into his lap. Karkat hums a little pleased noise against Dave's lips and kisses him again, fingers sliding back through his pale, thin human hair. He loves how soft it is compared to his, how his fingers slide right through without any tangling or resistance. Dave's hands slide back around and Karkat feels him tugging at the button on his jeans. He breaks off his lips, with effort. 

"Are you just--" he half-laughs, half-gasps as Dave gets his pants open and yanks the zipper down. "Are you just not going to undress, yourself, or -- oh, fuck --" Dave is wasting absolutely no time. Karkat wiggles forward a bit to give him a more accessible angle, resting his forehead against Dave's shoulder as his fingers trace a path down his pelvic plates, come to rest between his thighs. Karkat lets out a shaky little breath as his fingers slide slowly and suggestively over his nook, from which his bulge is going to be making a grand appearance any fucking second now, then down further to fondle his globes. Which is hilarious, really, how often has he told Dave to do exactly this as an insult, but the truth is that it feels fucking amazing, of course it does. He makes a truly embarrassing sound, a rough, low little moan, and Dave lets out this breathy, appreciative sigh that just fucking kills him. 

"Fuck, Dave," Karkat frantically tries to lift his hips and spread his legs, but his fucking jeans are still constricting his movements and Dave's fingers slow down, stop. "Wait, don't--" 

"Hey, just take them off," Dave suggests, and Karkat snaps his mouth shut and just nods, fuck, okay, good idea. He yanks them down, jeans and boxers and everything, briefly separating from Dave to wiggle them all the way off. And now he's fucking naked and Dave still hasn't so much as taken his god damned shirt off, but that suddenly matters a lot less because Dave is touching him again, eagerly. The pressure that's been building between his legs finally gives, and Karkat sighs in mixed pleasure and relief as his bulge slides out into Dave's waiting hands. 

"Fucking nice," Dave says, stroking him from base to tip, letting him curl and undulate around his fingers. 

"Shut up," Karkat breathes, not because he actually wants him to shut up, but because hearing Dave talk about his body in any appreciative way is simultaneously wonderful and humiliating. Telling him to shut up is basically reflex, at this point. But he seems genuinely fucking delighted, and god, he's gotten so good at knowing exactly what Karkat needs. His fingers provide the exact right amount of pressure and friction, and Karkat's hips stutter involuntarily forward. "Are you... just going to -- don't _you_ want --" 

"I know _exactly_ what I want," Dave says, all quiet and strangely intense. "Don't worry." 

"God," Karkat moans back. "Fine, fuck, just... ah, fuck!" 

"All good?" Dave teases, and Karkat makes a garbled choked noise and nods, vehemently. Dave leans in for another kiss, the hand that _isn't_ currently tangled up with his bulge sliding behind Karkat's neck, instead, holding him close while he just fucking ruins him. Karkat can barely think enough to meet Dave's tongue with his own, responding mostly on instinct, moaning into his mouth. God, he is so fucking _easy._ Do other people feel like this? Feel this _much?_ His heart is racing, his skin feels too tight, too hot, like his pathetic mortal shell just can't contain his fucking feelings and is going to just spastically overload at any moment. He pants desperately against Dave's chin.

"Dave, I can't -- I fucking can't, oh, fuck _me_ , I can't --" 

"I was kinda thinking," Dave says, and he's panting a little too, now, "Maybe you might want to _actually_..." 

"What?" Karkat blinks at him, hips rocking against his hand. Fuck, it's so good. It's so _good._

Dave's fingers slow and then still, though, and Karkat swallows, still swaying against him a little. His bulge fucking throbs with need and he just kind of kneels there suspended in it, aching. 

"Like, do you want to... the way that -- I just kinda want to, uh. Feel you? Like, uh, oh, fucking god. Kill me, I'm _not_ saying that, I just want --" He growls. "I can't fucking find a way to ask for this that isn't _directly_ out of one of your god damned bodice rippers or just like, way too fucking not sexy, or stupid, or -- just fucking kill me," he groans, covering his eyes. 

Karkat just... smiles. He can't help it; this is frustrating and kind of awful and Dave is barely even touching him, anymore, and he needs _something_ so bad he might die, but he still just kneels there wearing this doofy smile like a god damned jackass because he's pretty sure he knows what Dave is trying to ask him for, and it's just so fucking _Dave._ To get this far and then _not_ be able to ask for what he really wants, to not let himself be that fucking vulnerable. 

He doesn't have to. Karkat reaches over, tilts Dave's head up by the chin. His hands drop. "Sorry," Dave says, softly. 

Karkat kisses him. "Don't be," he says. He grabs a fistful of the fabric bunched up around Dave's collar, yanks him forward, playfully. "Just take all this shit off already, damn you." 

Dave grins. He makes this sharp gesture with one hand, like a salute that is probably some obtuse human way of agreeing to something, because he sets about divesting himself of his clothing immediately. Finally. Karkat watches him, bulge twitching with definite interest, letting his eyes roam over all the bare skin suddenly showing for him. Dave's skin is dusted with strangely appealing little spots and so fucking pale it's practically translucent; his fucking vascular tubes are visible in places, for fuck's sake. Karkat has never gotten used to that. Humans are so _goddamned_ fragile, it makes him want to fold Dave up in his arms and just hold him, keep him safe, which is fucking stupid because Dave is a hell of a lot stronger and definitely more durable than he is, given his conditional immortality. 

Fuck, no, this isn't the time for pale bullshit. He lets his eyes sweep down the muscles along Dave's thorax, across pleasing sweep of his clavicle bones, notices the way his cheeks and neck and shoulders are flushed pink. He looks into his eyes -- so fucking _red._ The exact color his will be, in just a few sweeps. They're fucking gorgeous, and if his are going to look anything like that, maybe being a mutant isn't so bad, after all. Dave smiles, a little shyly, and Karkat is _definitely_ not feeling the slightest bit pale anymore. 

"Come here," Karkat murmurs, holding out his arms. Dave hesitates, then nods, crawling forward, letting Karkat wrap his arms around him. He's nervous; Karkat can feel the tension all through his shoulders. He runs his hands up and down his back, soothing. "We'll do it like this. Put your legs around -- like that --" Karkat slides his hands under Dave's knees, pulling them up, around him, closer. Dave laughs, sounding both nervous and sort of delighted simultaneously. 

"Dude, Karkat, how are you going to get any fucking leverage, if--" 

"Shut up," Karkat admonishes him. He leans back, wrapping his arms around Dave's hips, grabbing two generous handfuls of his bare ass, and _pulls_ him bodily up into his lap. His bulge is sort of desperately seeking any source of friction it can find, so of course the second Dave is correctly in place it slides up eagerly between them, prodding inquisitively around all of Dave's most sensitive parts. Dave's eyes go very wide, lips parting, and for a second Karkat is sure he's going to pull away and scramble off him completely. 

But he doesn't. He clutches nervously at Karkat's shoulder with one hand, grabbing the headboard with the other, and just kind of stares down, looking into his eyes. It's so fucking hot Karkat can hardly stand it. 

"You okay?" he pants, and Dave nods, slowly. 

"I think we're supposed to, uh, maybe... not all at once, okay?" 

"If it's too much, tell me. I'll go slow." 

As slow as he can, anyway. His bulge is sort of rubbing itself against Dave's entrance, now, and Dave's eyes have somehow gone even _wider_ , but he nods assent and Karkat can barely fucking think. He reaches down around Dave and between them to slick his hand over his own bulge, covering his fingers in his own genetic material. Humans and trolls aren't very different at all when it comes to this particular thing, at least, and Karkat has read enough smutty literature to know what's supposed to happen, here. He concentrates on gently coaxing Dave open, carefully using his fingers to coat him thoroughly with his material. 

"Fuck, Karkat," Dave gasps, hips flexing experimentally down and forward, rocking onto his fingers. 

Karkat guides his bulge to where it needs to be, and it responds eagerly, pressing insistently against and then abruptly _into_ Dave, who immediately jerks upward with a startled little gasp. 

"Oh, fuck," Karkat gasps. "Are you okay? Did I--" 

"No! No, it's, uh. It's fine," Dave says. He's tense as hell, taut like a fucking bowstring, but he doesn't look like he's in pain, exactly. He slowly settles back down, and Karkat concentrates on working his way inside, and, Jesus Christ-- 

"You feel so _fucking_ good," Karkat hears himself say, practically moaning the words, and fuck, he does. He really does. He's so tight around him, so hot inside, so good, quivering in his arms. 

" _Fuck,_ Dave gasps, eyes squeezed shut. "The way you -- fuck, that -- if you could, just, uh, a little slower..." 

Karkat does his best, and it feels like it takes for fucking _ever_ , but Dave never asks him to stop and finally, _finally_ they're flush up against one another, clinging to one another, panting and desperate. Dave feels so good around him and on top of him and he can feel his bulge just _writhing_ inside him. Dave's jaw is clenched and his grip on Karkat's shoulder is tight enough to hurt, a little, but it barely registers against the pleasure radiating from below. 

"Still okay?" Karkat manages to ask, smoothing his hands over Dave's hips in desperate, roaming circles.

"Yeah," Dave says, breathlessly. "Oh, fuck, yes, don't stop. _Please,_ just, fuck, _yes._ " 

Oh, wow. Just the raw _neediness_ in his voice is almost enough to push Karkat completely over the edge. He forces himself calm, pulls Dave against him, wraps his arms around his sides and reaches up from behind to grip his shoulders, hard. Dave's eyes blink open and they look hazy, unfocused. He's sweat-slippery and so fucking hot Karkat can hardly stand it. 

"You are so fucking hot," Karkat informs him, breathless and solemn, and Dave lets out this ridiculous and adorable little laugh, blinking down at him. 

"You're fucking killing me, Karkat," he groans, and his hips sort of grind down a little, insistently, and Karkat's bulge responds eagerly, twisting back and forth, and it's not even just the physical pleasure -- which is overwhelming -- it's the look on Dave's face, his shallow, rapid breathing, his involuntary, almost startled little moans. It's the way Dave clutches at him desperately, the way they fit together, holding each other, the way he feels closer to Dave than he ever has before, and oh, fuck, he can feel his edge approaching with embarrassing speed, it's pleasure so fucking keen it's practically agony. 

"Dave," Karkat groans. "Dave, I'm going to -- I'm so fucking close, I can't--" 

"Fucking touch me," Dave gasps back, desperate, practically begging. "Just fucking _touch_ me, oh, god. It's so good, Karkat, I swear it's good, I just can't, without that, fuck, _please._ " 

Karkat doesn't need to be told twice. He grips Dave's rigid bulge in a hand still slicked with his own candy-red material and works him like his life depends on it, hard and fast and desperate. Dave groans wordless, eager approval, into his hair, directly in his ear, down against the side of his throat, his voice rough and strained and so -- fucking -- _hot._

Dave comes first, but it's a close fucking thing, and once Dave is done he goes completely fucking boneless. Karkat is laughing and cursing and moaning so fucking desperately as he tries to maneuver Dave's pathetic post-orgasmic deadweight, and _finally_ he gets him down onto his back against the mattress and just fucking smothers him as he sails off the edge into fucking oblivion. His vision honest to god goes white for a second, and he thinks he understands what the characters in his books mean when they talk about seeing stars. He's pretty sure he saw stars. 

They just breathe, for awhile. Dave smooths his hands up and down Karkat's arms, mindless and soothing, and Karkat nuzzles up against him, trying his actual best to make every part of their bodies press together. He can never be close enough. God, they're disgusting. Both in the intangible, nauseatingly saccharine sense and in the very literal, physical, covered-in-each-other's-fluids sense. It's perfect. 

"Okay," Dave says, finally, when their breathing has evened a little. "Holy shit." 

"Yeah," Karkat agrees, face still pressed against Dave's chest. Dave's fingers tangle their way into his hair, and he closes his eyes, humming approval. 

"Like, holy shit, Karkat." 

"Convincing enough for you?" Karkat teases, and Dave gives his hair a playful tug. 

"Yeah. Uh, yeah. Definitely. We've got to do that again, soon, like... damn." 

"Hmm," Karkat says. 

"Hmm what." 

"I'm not saying I don't want to do it again, far from it, but..." 

"... _But?_ " Dave tugs at his hair, again, hard enough to sting a little. Karkat kicks him. Dave flicks one of his horns, and Karkat lifts his head and narrows his eyes. 

"Do that again and I'll bite you," he warns. 

"Such promises," Dave grins, waggling his eyebrows, which is such fucking bullshit because Karkat knows perfectly well that Dave doesn't like even a little bit of pain mixed in with his pailing. Sex. Whatever. He found _that_ out early on, experimenting with the more caliginous aspects of their completely mixed up arrangement. Karkat presses down a kiss, instead, and Dave goes back to running his fingers through Karkat's hair. It's... nice. It's always nice, laying here like this with Dave in the afterglow.

" _But,_ " he relents, "next time I think it might be my turn." 

"Your turn? To...?" He makes a surprised little humming noise. "I mean, you want -- that?" 

"Obviously." 

"You know I'm, like, uh... shaped... differently?" 

"Dave, for fuck's sake. I think I know pretty well what I'm asking for, here." 

Dave makes a thoughtful sound, and Karkat can feel him shrug more than he can see it. "All right. But don't be all surprised when I like, demolish your ass, I guess." 

"Wow, how fucking romantic!"

Dave laughs -- it's practically a fucking giggle, all high pitched and nervous and _ridiculous_ , and Karkat kicks him again. "It's ass sex, dude, how romantic can it possibly be?" 

"Why don't you fucking tell me," Karkat snaps, lifting himself up to loom over Dave. "How _demolished_ do you feel, right now?" 

"I feel..." Dave trails off, and his face gets this faraway look, just for a second before he snaps back into focus. "Well, I'm not you." 

"What?" 

"I mean, you're so..." Dave bites his lip. "You're so fucking good. Like, everything we do, no matter what we try, it's always so -- you make me feel so --" he cuts off, face flushing honest-to-god candy red. Karkat blinks up at him, bewildered. "I'm not sure I can, like. I don't want to hurt you, dude, and I don't know how you do it, how you can take anything and make it feel so goddamned special, like... fuck." He takes a breath, exhales. 

"You think you don't make me feel that way?" 

Dave shrugs, his eyes sliding away, looking somewhere to the side, instead. Karkat furrows his brows. 

"Dave," he says. "You do, okay? You make me feel good, too. Special." Something catches in his throat. _Loved_ , he wants to say, but it's always like playing emotional roulette, gauging how Dave is going to react to that word, and today he doesn't want to play. 

"Yeah," Dave exhales, noisily. 

"I really need you to believe me when I say that!" 

"All right," he says, his gaze sliding back to meet Karkat's. "Next time, then." 

"We don't have to," Karkat says, quickly, because the thought of making Dave do something he doesn't want to do is like a punch to the gut, painful and nauseating. 

And... Dave just smiles. "I know," he says, softly. And then his lips twitch into a smirk, and his eyes take on a teasing glint. "But we will. And it's gonna blow your god damned mind." 

Karkat's insides all contract with a little warning shiver, and he smiles back. "Good," he says, and then he actually ducks his head and blushes like he's still a fucking virgin and this is their first date. 

"For _now_ , though, we should probably clean up? I mean, unless you want to wake up in a sticky puddle, possibly glued together, like totally fucking irreversibly bonded, like blood brothers except instead of blood it's just your fucking bloody jizz, everywhere--" 

"Dave, god dammit, shut the fuck up." Karkat winces, sitting up. "The only thing filthier than this fucking bed right now is your vile, shitty mouth!" 

And he actually has the audacity to _wink_. So, very calmly, Karkat grabs his husktop, slides out of bed, and sets it gently on the side table. 

Then he grabs the sheets in both hands and yanks them off the bed, dumping Dave unceremoniously to the floor in a tangle of stained sheets and gangling limbs, and the resulting indignant hollering makes him laugh until he fucking cries.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr [@landofsomethingsomething](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/landofsomethingsomething)!


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